


The Legend of Blood-Eye Blade

by Drkvixn91



Series: The Legends of Blood-Eye Blade [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Adventure, Alternate History, Angst, Don't Have to Know Canon, Drama, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Friendship, Garrosh Hellscream is an ass, Horde, I'm cruel to my characters, Love, M/M, Mists of Pandaria never happened, Original Character(s), Rebellion, Romance, Slavery, Slow Build, Uprising, Violence, War, legend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drkvixn91/pseuds/Drkvixn91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drakken Bludwringer is just a captain in the Warchief's militia when he meets Blood-Eye Blade, a member of Hellscream's infamous Patrol and a man feared throughout half of Azeroth. Now he's a wanted man, part of a rebellion that has been shifting, chafing, beneath Durotar's red surface for years. </p><p>Yes, when these two men collide, for good or for ill, horrible truths will be brought to light and the Horde will tremble as war and revolution sweep through the land. </p><p>This is a story of peace and war, love and hate, life…and death. This is the tale of how one of the most feared men in Azeroth met his demise. This is the true Legend of Blood-Eye Blade…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foreword from the Author

\---

There are few in this world, Horde, Alliance, or otherwise, who have not heard of the infamous Blood-Eye Blade. 

Stories are circled around bars and domiciles late at night of a man. A man who leaves murder and carnage in his wake. A man whose blades are permanently drenched in liquid crimson, whose eyes glow red with blood…  
A terrifying vision indeed.

But few people know the true story behind the legend. Few people know who Blood-Eye Blade once was, how he came to be the harbinger of death that he is known as today.

This is not a written history of this most villainous character; most of his terrible deeds are already common knowledge. This is not a bedtime story to tell children in the eve.

This is a story of peace and war, love and hate, life…and death.

This is the tale of how one of the most feared men in Azeroth met his demise. This is the true Legend of Blood-Eye Blade…

 

 

_As written by Bjarnn Featherhoof._


	2. And So It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to my story 'The Legend of Blood-Eye Blade'! 
> 
> This will be a very long adventure that we will embark on together and I'm sure I will lose and gain readers along the way but I hope you will all be there with me in the end. Before we get started on the first leg of our journey though there are a number of things I have to say...
> 
> First off I must explain a little about myself and my way of writing. Sadly I am terrible at writing when I am not inspired or "in the mood" to do so. Therefore it could be a long while between chapters. This story will definitely be finished, I am determined on that front... but not for a while... I believe it should be worth it in the end though.
> 
> Second. This story is set after the events of Cataclysm, prior to Mists of Pandaria (read: ignores it's existence). I originally dreamed this story up half way through Deathwing's rampage of destruction, long before the announcement of MoP and so that will be where my story splits from the lore. Though there were some surprising similarities despite...
> 
> Finally I must warn those of you with tender hearts or minds...  
> This story contains violence in both a general and a personal sense. It will contain fighting, gore, mentions of slavery and associated torture, attempted suicide, death wishes, war, depression, angst, self-hatred, and other such dark themes.  
> It will also contain coarse language and non-explicit male/male relationships.  
> If for any reason these things offend you, upset you, send you to my inbox on a rant of flame, or for any other reason push your trigger buttons then please stop here. If you leave now then we can avoid a lot of drama and hurt feelings. I will not be held responsible for offending anyone's delicate sensibilities when you have all been appropriately forewarned.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way... Let us begin!

# And So It Begins

-

The large olive green orc made his way through the Valley of Strength market place, carefully weaving his muscular frame through the heavy crowds as he headed towards Grommash Hold. After what felt like an age he finally came to a stop outside of the Hold’s entrance and looked back at the writhing masses he had escaped. He shook his head, sending the long black braids that hung down his collar bone swinging.

 _Great to be back_ , Drakken thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Turning his gaze away from the glare of the sun burnt valley he stepped through the archway and into the cool confines of the stone building. He sighed with relief as the shadows enveloped him, cooling his too-warm skin. He loved Durotar but after spending two months in the icy conditions of a winter-gripped Hillsbrad Foothills…well it was just a bit much.

Slowly he made his way through the halls to the throne room, smiling at the sentinels that greeted him on the way. His rich brown eyes swept the large circular room and the faces there but found no sign of the Warchief. He turned to one of the elite guards standing next to the entrance, a bulky orc who he recognised from basic training in the Valley of Trials many years before.

“J’nore. You wouldn’t happen to know where the Warchief is right now, would you?” He asked. The larger male nodded in the direction of the small set of stairs camouflaged against the back wall.

“He’s up in the strategy room looking over some plans.” Drakken flashed the guard a brief smile and clapped him on one plate covered shoulder before continuing on his way up the stairs.

 

The orc moved through the halls with familiarity and ease. It wouldn’t be his first time here, nor even his tenth. After all, Drakken had been in the Warchief’s militia since Thrall’s time (now a captain), though much had changed since Garrosh Hellscream had taken over. The red orc had swept through the Horde like a hurricane, changing everything, and not always for the best. Not that anyone would ever voice these thoughts aloud. Those who were overheard muttering words of discontent often vanished into thin air or found themselves shipped off to the furthest Horde outposts to be found. _And the Warchief had ears everywhere…_   

The muscular orc shook his head of such thoughts. Evidence had yet to surface on any truly sinister acts by the current Warchief, though rumours naturally persisted, and it would do him no good to go searching for it. For now it was best to just do his job. He hadn’t any personal grievances with the current status quo and the feeling of unease that lingered on the air at times could hardly be called definitive.

Turning one last corner his destination loomed before him. He hesitated outside, knocking one heavy green fist against the wooden doorframe. A grunt from inside reached his ears, followed by a deep, guttural voice.

“ _Come in_.”

Stalling only long enough to straighten his armour, the warrior swept aside the Horde banner which acted as the room separator and allowed himself inside. Once inside the strategy room he immediately found himself pinned by the Warchief’s intense gaze. The olive skinned orc briefly touched his fist to his chest in greeting.

“Ah, _Drakken Bludwringer_ , just the orc I was looking for. How goes the battle for Hillsbrad?”

“The battle goes well. I can say with all confidence that the murloc threat is no more and all except one Alliance hold has fallen.” Garrosh nodded his satisfaction.

“Good. One hold is not enough for the Alliance keep their purchase within the Foothills. It will not be long before their forces there are completed eradicated.” The rust coloured male’s scarred face contorted into a twisted imitation of a smile, amber eyes alight with the promise of bloodshed. Drakken felt the slight cloud of unease descend once more and shifted uncomfortably.

“Warchief, was there another reason you summoned me?” He asked, keeping his face carefully blank. Almost as quickly as it had appeared the disturbing leer was gone, leaving no indication that it had ever been there in the first place.

“I have summoned you, Captain, because I have another mission for you. _One of vital importance_.” He strode over to the planning table, gesturing for Drakken to follow. As Drakken approached he could see a mess of maps, figurines and plans spread out across the desk’s surface. On top of the pile was a map of Kalimdor, marked by numerous scribbles, crosses and circles. He leaned close over the map as Hellscream started to explain.

“We have received word of an attack planned by Southsea pirates on the goblin city of Gadgetzan. I want you to lead a company of 200 warriors from Orgrimmar to Tanaris to aid in the defence. I want you to crush those pirate scum! Leave them as nothing more than bloody smears amidst the sand! If we save those goblins’ scrawny green behinds then maybe that neutral city won’t be so neutral anymore. If not then we will simply have to find another way to bring them around to our way of thinking…” Drakken ignored the last muttered remark and bowed his head.

“It will be done, Warchief.” Garrosh nodded once more.

“Good. You will be travelling through Dustwallow Marsh into Thousand Needles. There should be a ship there to take you across the flats. At the moment the attack is planned for two and a half weeks’ time. More than enough time for you to get there.” The mighty Warchief straightened and stepped away from the cluttered table.

“Also, in light of the importance of this mission I have elected a Patrol member to accompany you.” Surprise flitted across Drakken’s strong features.

 _A Patrol member?_ He had heard of Hellscream’s Patrol before, a select group made up of some of the most skilled warriors the Horde had to offer, but never before had he actually had the honour to work with one of the illustrious group.

 _A collection of elite handpicked for their incredible battle prowess…This person must be a demon on the field._ He looked back at the Warchief but the red orc’s attention was focused on the entry behind him, a smirk spread across his scarred face. Drakken’s brow furrowed and he turned to the door. The almost undetectable sound of light footsteps reached his ears mere seconds before the flap was swept aside and who he could only assume was the Patrol member walked in.

The young male elf that strode through the doorway was _at least_ a head and a half shorter than himself but undoubtedly covered from head to toe in lean muscles, muscles which were dressed simply in mahogany leather pants, boots, and a creamy linen shirt. Two long, thin sais hung from his belt, and a thick metal collar was wrapped around his neck. Both glinted dangerously in the light coming in from the small window. His peachy skin appeared flawless and smooth until a slender hand moved to push a stray lock of hair from his face, revealing the single angry looking scar that marred his left brow, crossing over one almond shaped eye. Once he was looking he could also spy a few faded marks on his neck and lining his upper chest, marks that slipped away beneath the collar of his shirt. The way it all came together it was hard to decide whether the elf was beautiful or handsome, feminine or masculine, but this was as blood elves tended to be. But it was his eyes, _oh his eyes_ , that really caught his attention. In their depths he found no familiar fel green glow…instead his eyes were a deep and bloody crimson. A shiver worked its way down Drakken’s spine because despite their fiery colour his eyes held no warmth. They were as cold and hard as steel.

The blood elf came to stand at his side before the Warchief. Like Drakken he briefly touched one clenched fist to his chest.

“Warchief.” He greeted, his voice as cool and emotionless as his eyes. He glanced briefly at the orc standing beside him before turning away once more, causing his long blonde ponytail to swing gently. Drakken mentally picked up his jaw from its place on the floor. The smirk on Hellscream’s face grew.

“Captain, I would like you to meet Blood-Eye Blade. He’s the patrol member who will be going with you on this mission. He’ll be making sure everything goes…according to plan.” The green orc grinned at the shorter male and nodded politely.

“Well met.” The elf barely turned his red eyes to the warrior.

“And to you.” He said, his voice quiet and his tone crisp. Drakken shrugged off the Patrol member’s aloofness as if unperturbed and returned his attention to the Warchief.

“I’ve already alerted the men. You leave tomorrow. Those that live outside of the city’s walls have made arrangements and all of them will be ready and waiting outside the gates an hour after sunrise. Understood?” Garrosh fixed them with a scrutinising glare.

“Yes sir.” The two replied simultaneously. Satisfied he turned his narrowed yellow eyes on Blood-Eye Blade and growled menacingly.

“And I want no screw-ups, _understand_?” The elf in question lowered his gaze to floor and a shadow of a grimace fell upon his lips.

“I…understand…” He muttered. The smirk returned to Hellscream’s face.

“Good. You may go.” He dismissed the two men with a wave of his hand and turned away from them. They silently exited the room, leaving the rust coloured orc to his business.

 

Garrosh Hellscream stared out at the city of Orgrimmar from the small window in the clutter filled strategy room.

 _How easy it is_ , he thought, _to root out and eliminate those that may challenge my supremacy._ His amber gaze zeroed in on the two men that exited his hold, eyes narrowing as the orc tried unsuccessfully to engage the much smaller blood elf in conversation.

 _A shame to waste such obvious talent but it cannot be helped. All must bow before the new Horde or be crushed beneath it. He doesn’t even realise that Blood-Eye Blade will be his undoing…_ A chuckle rumbled through his chest and a cruel leer stretched itself across his face.

_And as long as Blood-Eye Blade is the one to raise the knife none shall ever know…_

 

Twilight fell upon Durotar, turning the red land into beautiful deep shades of crimsons and dusky purples. In the city of Orgrimmar citizens were retiring to their homes to eat, rest and await the coming of the next dawn. Drakken walked through the slowly calming streets of the Valley of Strength towards the inn he and his friends were staying at. He watched others return to their places of residence and thought of the lumpy bed that awaited him with a sigh. Not that he would ever regret the path he had taken. He had seen and experienced so much, met so many people. Though he had to admit the always-on-the-road lifestyle of a militiaman like himself could be a wearying one.

 _I’m lucky I’ve friends who are willing to come along for the ride,_ he thought.

As he approached the inn he could hear raucous laughter spilling out and into the valley. He shook his head even as he grinned.

 _Broken Tusk Inn: never a dull night_ , he chuckled mentally. He entered the building and found his senses accosted by a wave of sights, smells and sounds, all of which blended in with the ever present heat to create a heady air. The bar was full of burly warriors taking up all the available room and then some. Most everyone drinking, joking and enjoying the last few moments of peace and relaxation before they shipped out in the morn. Over the din he could just make out several voices calling out his name. Rich chocolate eyes scanned the many faces that filled the space until they caught sight of his companions waving at him from a table near the back of the room. He immediately elbowed his way through the crowd to the table and collapsed heavily in the small wooden stool saved for him. He accepted the mug offered to him gratefully, uncaring of what it was, he was just happy that it was still cool. He took a large swig of the liquid, relishing the sensation of the cold that washed down his parched throat. _Cherry grog_ , he noted appreciatively.

“Enjoying the heat?” A melodious voice asked from his left. He let the mug fall back onto the table with a light wooden ‘clunk’ and groaned, the sound low and agonised. The blood elf who had spoken laughed at his response, her beautiful porcelain face scrunching in her mirth. The scraggly grey skinned forsaken beside her shook his head, his limp black hair falling into his eyes.

“ _Oh yeah_ , and if you didn’t get enough of it today then we still have a whole month of blistering heat and sand to look forward to.” He said, his gravelly voice thick with sarcasm. The Sin’dorei giggled once more.

“That’s our Gavin. Mediocre rogue and resident pessimist.” Mirth danced in her fel green eyes. Gavin glared at her and opened his mouth for a scathing reply but Drakken got there first.

“Don’t you two start.” He growled half-heartedly, hoping to avoid yet another long-winded argument. The undead scowled but didn’t reply, instead choosing to raise his mug to his cold lips and mutter grumpily into his ale. Drakken turned to Melaine with a long-suffering look.

“Why must you always bait him?” He asked, gesturing at their surly comrade. The elven woman smiled prettily and flicked her wavy strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Because it’s fun!” The mage stated simply. Drakken sighed but let it drop, knowing from the gleam in his friend’s glowing green eyes it was a futile effort. With a sigh of resignation he switched his attention to a skinny troll with a grass coloured Mohawk, who was watching the exchange with obvious amusement.

“How are you feeling Kar’zhel? Are you sure you’re up for this mission?” The troll in question waved off his friend’s concern.

“I be fine. Mah wound already be healed and I got the go ahead from Bjarnn over here dis mornin’.” Kar’zhel said motioning towards the grey-brown furred tauren druid seated between Gavin and himself. Bjarnn’s green eyes rose to meet Drakken’s brown.

“The wound was superficial and it looked much worse than it truly was. He’s completely healthy.” The tauren explained. Drakken nodded and grinned at the lanky blue troll next to him.

“I’m relieved. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” He said, clapping the other man on the shoulder. Across the table Gavin snorted loudly into his drink. Bjarnn raised one furry brow at the man but otherwise ignored him. The forsaken set his mostly empty mug back on the table’s surface and leaned back, rolling his yellow eyes.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t have to worry about saving his skinny arse.” He quipped. Kar’zhel squawked indignantly.

“Oh, don’t try to deny it.” Gavin said, cutting off whatever retort had been on the troll’s lips. “You just jump in without thinking, swinging that mace of yours around. Then you go and get yourself hurt and can’t even heal yourself! Some shaman you are.” Kar’zhel’s bright orange eyes narrowed.

“I be an enhancement shaman, you know dat. Besides, how be dat any different from what you do?”

 

As the two fell into argument Drakken took the chance to go get a refill. He chuckled to himself as he stood at the bar awaiting his drink.

_I’ll probably get back to find those two have escalated to wrestling on the table._

“Here ya go. That’ll be 2 silver.” The orc behind the bar said, handing him a freshly filled flagon. Drakken thanked the man and fished a couple of coins out of his coin purse, making sure to include a few extra coppers as tip. As he was paying the man a familiar figure approached the bar.

“I’ll have a bourbon.” The blood elf stated to a suddenly nervous bartender. He placed a few silvers on the bench. “This should cover it.” The orc nodded and hurried to get the beverage for the intimidating elf.

“I didn’t take you as one for the drink.” Drakken admitted, shifting his attention to the smaller man. The elf flashed his deep red eyes towards the warrior briefly before turning his gaze back to the bartender.

“We all have our vices Captain. I am no different.” Blood-Eye Blade said, his voice barely distinguishable over the racket of the inn. Drakken nodded as he considered the statement.

“I suppose that’s true. The Patrol aren’t that different than regular guards or soldiers, after all.” The blonde elf fell silent for a minute until the barkeep returned with his drink. He muttered a “thank you” as he took the roughly hewn mug. He dipped his head towards Drakken.

“I must take my leave of your company. Enjoy your evening Captain.” Blood-Eye Blade turned on his heel then and returned to his seat, the crowd parting around him as he went. Drakken shook his head in bewilderment as he watched the blood elf leave.

_That is one strange person…_

 

Drink in hand, Drakken slowly made his way back to his friends, hoping against hope that Gavin and Kar’zhel had settled down in his absence. As he passed a table of men whispering amongst themselves his lightly pointed ears caught snippets of discontent.

_“Dangerous…”_

_“Some…dead…”_

_“Murdered more like…”_

_“Evil…red eyes…”_

The hissed words made him stop in his tracks.

 _Red eyes? Surely they can’t mean anyone but…_ Drakken came up behind them and gently touched one of the men, a light furred tauren, on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, but if I may interrupt? You wouldn’t happen to be talking about one Blood-Eye Blade would you?” The four all turned to look at him in surprise.

“Of course, it’s the infamous _Blood-Eye Blade_! Everyone’s talking!” A stout brown orc exclaimed. Drakken frowned, confused. Shock widened the other orc’s amber eyes. “You _have_ heard the stories haven’t you?” Drakken held back a grimace.

“Let’s pretend for a moment that I haven’t…” He said, pulling up a chair. The tauren next to him shook his head in disbelief.

“I didn’t think there was a soul alive who hadn’t heard…Where have you been all these years? Living under a rock?” He asked incredulously. Drakken rubbed at his temple with one hand and reached out for his cherry grog.

 _Why did I bother sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong?_ He wondered, feeling the first stirrings of a headache beginning to thump against his skull.

“Must have been.” He muttered more to himself than anything else.

“No wonder you were able to talk to him so casually without worrying about a dagger being plunged into your chest.” Said another orc, his voice rough. Drakken’s hand stopped its soothing ministrations and his earth brown eyes widened dramatically.

“ _What…_?” The hoarse voiced orc nodded emphatically.

“Oh yeah. Ol’ Blood-Eye has a history of murder.” He explained. “I used to think they were just stories until I met Kilreign here. See, he’s actually _seen_ it!” He gestured one green hand towards a rather scrawny looking orc. Kilreign looked up and Drakken found himself ensnared by the man’s haunted gaze. When he opened his mouth to talk his voice was small.

“It was… _terrifying_ … I’d been on missions before where one of the Patrol had been sent along. Usually they just sorta sit quietly in the background, just like the Warchief tells you they’re there to make sure the job gets done. But Blood-Eye Blade…He was a different story altogether. From the start he made people anxious. Having some strange elf with red eyes watching all the time is rather disconcerting. But he was just like the others at first, hovering silently in the background. Then the fighting came… The man was a demon on the battlefield, running through the ranks slaughtering friend and foe alike. The Commander, my mate Harthagg… No one knew why he did it or why he didn’t just kill the rest of us too and be done with it. And I think that’s the worst part…not knowing if there was a method to his madness or if it could have been anyone…” Kilreign fell silent. His grey eyes became unfocused as he stared into an image only he could see. A moment later the light in his head came back on and he coughed awkwardly. “Anyways, I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end. When we got back to Orgrimmar we reported everything to the Warchief but…nothing changed. The exact same thing happened the very next month…” The small orc shook his head as if even now he couldn’t believe what he had been witness to.

“That’s true. You hear rumours all the time about similar situations occurring. Fel, I’ve even heard talk of whole platoons disappearing where that elf’s involved.” The tauren rumbled beside him. “Pretty much guaranteed that if Blood-Eye Blade is involved then there is trouble on the horizon.”

“ _The speed and grace of the lithest rogue and the strength of an orc warrior_ …” Kilreign breathed. Drakken looked at him, waiting for the other orc to elaborate but instead silence descended upon the table. Seconds ticked by and Drakken found his attention turning inwards. Thoughts of the strange elf and the stories he had heard occupied his mind.

 _Such horrific tales…Could they really be true?_ He wondered. _Is that the reason why so many shy away?_ His brown eyes swept the crowds, coming to rest upon the blood elf. Blood-Eye Blade sat alone at a table staring into his bourbon. The iron band around his neck reflected the lamplight back into Drakken’s eyes. The orc frowned.

“What about that metal collar? He was wearing it in Grommash Hold earlier but I didn’t get a chance to inquire about it. It hardly seems like something a blood elf would usually wear.” He asked, breaking the hush that still held the group within its grasp. It was the rough voiced orc that replied.

“The Patrol is made up of about a score of people, men and women of all races of the Horde. Every single one of them wears one of those collars.” He explained before draining his mug. He slapped it down loudly and sighed. “Well that’s enough horror stories for me. I’m going to go get some shut eye. Big day and all tomorrow.” The orc rose from his chair and Drakken followed suit.

“Yes, I should be getting back to my friends. Thank you for the talk.” He bid the men goodbye and slowly made his way back to his table, his mind still distracted by images of red eyes and crimson rivers.

 

Hours passed uneventfully and one by one the common room began to empty, people seeking their beds and the comfort of sleep. Kar’zhel, Bjarnn and Melaine had joined the masses in their migration upstairs some time before and it was just Drakken and Gavin left to occupy their little corner.

Drakken struggled to conceal yet another yawn as he sat slumped at the table. Gavin stopped talking to raise his brow at the orc.

“I’m sorry, was I boring you?” He asked. Drakken shook his head even as another yawn escaped his lips.

“Sorry, I’m just so tired. I think it’s time I called it a night.” The forsaken rolled his eyes as Drakken rose from his seat and stretched.

“You living and your sleep.” He groused. Drakken chuckled at his friend’s negativity as he started towards the stairs.

“Goodnight Gavin.” He called over shoulder, humour colouring his voice. A grumbled “yeah, yeah” reached his ears and he smiled.

 _Ah, Gavin. As Mel so aptly put it; our resident pessimist._ Drakken yawned again. _Ah, bed…_

Yet it would seem it was not yet meant to be for as he made his way towards his room he was distracted by the sounds of distress. He almost walked right by and ignored it but with a tortured groan he stopped.

 _Ugh, I hate myself sometimes_ , he thought. Glancing around, he quickly spotted the source of the disruption.

“Kilreign? What’s wrong?” He asked, his brow furrowing in concern. The distraught orc jumped, his head whipping around. When he saw it was only Drakken some of the tension slipped from his shoulders.

“Oh, it’s you.” He mumbled. Drakken sat himself down in the chair next to the smaller man and leaned back.

“What’s wrong?” He asked again. Kilreign averted his gaze and shifted uncomfortably.

“You’ll think it ridiculous.” Drakken held back a frustrated groan.

“You don’t know that. Just talk to me.” He implored the man, offering a comforting smile. Kilreign sighed but turned to his fellow orc and started to explain.

“The inn is rather full with all the soldiers, so those of us leaving tomorrow on the mission to Tanaris have to double up. And I…I was assigned the same room as _Blood-Eye Blade_!” The man’s grey eyes widened and his hands shook at the mere mention of the elf. “I can’t stay in the same room as that monster. _I just can’t_ …” Kilreign shook his bald head, his grass coloured hands gripping his skull. Drakken nodded as the pieces fell into place.

 _That would do it_ , he thought.

“I understand your concern… Tell you what; I’ll switch rooms with you. My roommate might not even go up so you’d probably have the room to yourself.” He offered despite knowing that his undead friend might chew him out for it the next morn. Kilreign smiled gratefully.

“Thank you. I know it’s silly. An orc being afraid of some little blood elf but…After the things I saw…” The man shuddered. Drakken nodded again.

“It’s fine.” He assured the orc. The two exchanged keys and Drakken, after bidding the other a goodnight, finally made his way to his room.

 

The olive skinned orc unlocked the door and shuffled into the room, making sure to stop the door from slamming behind him. He deposited his belongings on the floor next to the closest sleeping mat and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. Carefully he removed his plate armour, leaving him in his linen shirt and breeches. He breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. When he reopened them he stopped. A pair of red eyes gazed up at him from a pale face. Drakken opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but came up blank. The silence stretched into awkward territory as the two men stared at each other. Thoughts of Kilreign and his story ran rampant through Drakken’s head though he tried to ignore it.

_Ugh. This is one of the reasons I don’t normally listen to gossip._

“You are not my assigned roommate.” The blood elf observed. The simplicity of the statement seemed to sweep away the cotton blanketing Drakken’s mind.

 _No, you’re previous roommate was too terrified to come within ten yards of you..._ He thought. The orc swore mentally and looked at the elf sitting up on his sleeping roll. Long blonde hair free and framing his face and a flat crimson stare.

_Damn. It doesn’t matter what he’s done I can’t say that…_

“Uh…No, no I’m not. The other guy, he wanted to stay with his friend who was actually in a room with me. So I agreed to switch with him…and now here I am.” It was a weak lie he knew. After all, they weren’t youths in their first years of training. He saw something flash deep within Blood-Eye Blade’s dark red eyes, something almost like hurt. The smaller male blinked and it was gone, replaced by a sceptic raise of one elegant brow.

“ _Uh-huh_.” It was the most casual he had heard the Patrol member speak. Blood-Eye Blade shook his head and exhaled softly.

“That was a terrible attempt to lie. And you needn’t have bothered…I am used to such things.” He said quietly. He turned his gaze towards the orc once more. “Anyway, I wish you a good night. We start a long journey tomorrow and I am sure we could all do with some rest.” He reached out and blew out the candle on the floor beside him, cloaking his half of the room in shadow. The orcish warrior blinked in surprise.

 _I believe I have been dismissed,_ thought Drakken wryly. The small grin that had accompanied the thought slipped as he pondered on the rogue’s words.

_‘Used to such things.’ I wonder if one can truly become used to such pain…or if they just get better at hiding it…_

He yawned and decided to follow the blood elf’s example. He had a feeling he would need all the rest he could get in the coming weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do apologise for any switching between spellings. Being from Australia I generally use UK English (colour not color, apologise not apologize) but both the website and my Microsoft Word are set to American English so I get kind of turned around at times and end up using both versions of a single word in my stories. Trying to stay constant but it's a battle. 
> 
> *The following characters belong to me: Blood-Eye Blade, Setheren Lightbearer, Drakken Bludwringer, Melaine Goldrunner, Gavin, Kar'Zhel, Bjarnn Featherhoof, Chezten, Kirense, Gail Mherien, Kherelle, Tahlen, Leitenna Silkweaver, Fenn, Bunice, Lorchron, Engelique Lightbearer, Lienna Lightbearer, and Theilenn Lightbearer.  
> Most other characters belong solely to Blizzard and associated authors.


	3. Travelling a Rocky Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this nearly didn't happen. I finally finished this chapter (the longest one I've ever written...so far) and was going over it to check for any mistakes (a handle of which I likely missed, sorry). When I'd worked my way down to the new section it had disappeared. Gone. I will not lie, I fucking panicked. A third of the story just...gone. Figured out that dropbox, despite claiming to have been updated 13 hours before, had lied and had loaded the draft version from approximately two weeks ago. Thankfully I realised within a day of this happening and after finding information about the cache was able to retrieve the proper draft. But man, that was a scary moment there...
> 
> For those interested in the Visual Novel version of this story here's a link to the newest version, which includes this chapter. https://www.dropbox.com/s/j5n7kr065xq3jhu/The%20Legend%20of%20Blood-Eye%20Blade.zip?dl=0

# Travelling a Rocky Road

-

Dawn broke over Durotar the next day in an explosion of colour. The sky was a cool pale blue and the early morning light made the small amount of cloud cover ignite in a brilliant display of fluorescent pinks and oranges. The beauty of this morning phenomenon was lost however on the warrior that lay peacefully still in his hired cot.

As the large green orc rolled over in bed, consciousness slowly moved to grace his sleeping form. It slithered into his mind and chased away kaleidoscope dreams of blood and screams until nothing but weak, disorienting tendrils of them remained.  
A groan slipped past sleep swollen lips and unfocused brown eyes blinked open. His mind still foggy from sleep and his vision bleary, it took the orc captain a minute of staring at the empty sleeping mat across from him before it actually registered that the crimson eyed elf he had shared the room with was no longer there. To be sure he glanced around the small space as best he could from his reclining position.  
Sure enough there was neither hair nor hide of the Patrol member or his belongings; the removal of his presence so complete that Drakken wondered briefly if he had dreamed the happenings of the previous evening. With a frown beginning to bite at his brow he swung his legs out and sat up, rubbing tiredly at his face with a calloused palm. A heavy sigh forced itself from his cotton filled mouth and he fought the temptation to return to the world of slumber. With a great amount of effort the warrior got up and ambled over to the tiny recess which was supposed to be the washroom, though the pail of cold water and dirty cloth could hardly be called such. Forgoing the rag in favour of his hands Drakken curled his thick olive toned fingers into a crude imitation of a bowl and splashed the water onto his face and neck. The water was cool and helped to wash away any lingering drowsiness. Drakken went in for more, briskly rubbing his arms and chest with dripping hands and wishing that the Broken Tusk Inn offered proper bathing facilities as it may have been his last chance to bathe for at least a few days. The raven haired orc pushed the thought from his mind and, not even bothering to dry off, threw on his armour. Without looking down he scooped up his bags and headed downstairs hoping to have time for a quick meal before they had to meet with the rest of the soldiers.  

 

As it turned out Drakken had slept in much later than he thought and had barely enough time to gather his possessions and saddle Kiyeiya, his armoured grey wolf, before he and his companions had to meet the rest of the troops at the city gate.  
The orc Captain stood before the warriors gathered there, trying to look professional and ignore the hunger that had begun to nibble on his insides. He dreaded the day ahead knowing full well that the twinge he felt now would be unbearable by the time they stopped for the eve. With a weary sigh he turned to survey the many warriors who gathered in front of the city of Orgrimmar. The mostly orcish warriors stood in varying degrees of attention; some whispering to their neighbours and others doing their best not to fall asleep . However once he started to speak, his voice carrying over the large assembly the way only those with years of practice could achieve, all turned their attention to their superior.

“All of you gathered here have been hand-picked by the Warchief to participate in a mission of utmost importance to bring aid to the neutral city of Gadgetzan in Tanaris. For those of you who are unaware I am your commanding officer, Captain Drakken Bludwringer.” Drakken held them in his hard, stern gaze for a moment before continuing, gesturing behind him at his friends.

“These people standing behind me are my lieutenants: Gavin, Bjarnn Featherhoof, Melaine Goldrunner, and Kar’zhel. We will be leading you on this mission from the city of Orgrimmar, through Durotar, down through The Barrens and Dustwallow Marsh, across the shimmering flats of A Thousand Needles, and finally into Tanaris. There we will build up the city’s defences and engage the raiding Southsea pirates in battle. The aim here is to drive these pirates away and protect Gadgetzan, hopefully earning the Horde their allegiance. We have two weeks to get there, and in a group this large and on foot it will likely take every last second of that time to reach our destination, so expect a hard journey.” A symphony of groans rang out from the men and Drakken chuckled briefly at their reaction.  
A flash of gold caught his eye and he glanced over to see Blood-Eye Blade finally deign to join them. The red eyed elf stood silently off to the side, a large timber wolf – which the orc assumed was the elf’s mount, – close by. Several of the men standing nearest also noticed the Patrol member’s appearance amongst them and none-too-subtly shifted closer to their comrades, attempting to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the small, aloof man who seemed oblivious to the discomfort of those around him. Drakken groaned inwardly. _That’s going to be a problem this whole journey,_ he thought, concealing a wince. Returning his attention to the small army as a whole he wrapped up his speech.

“Finally, as some of you may have noticed we bear the honour of having a member of our Warchief’s own Patrol join us on our mission. Blood-Eye Blade will be aiding us in our quest and keeping his eye out for exemplary soldiers and troublemakers both. So it would be in your own interests to be on your best behaviour for the next few weeks.” Chocolate brown eyes watched as a number his troops shifted uncomfortably and murmurs of discontent flitted through the ranks. The orc Captain sighed. _Well, I’ll just have to deal with the issues as they arise. There’s little I can do about this tense atmosphere now since nothing I say is going to help them get past their distrust._  
Drakken turned his attention forward and mounted Kiyeiya who, sensing her master’s mood, gently nosed his arm as he climbed up. He rewarded the grey furred war wolf with a soft pat and a small smile before encouraging her onwards. Drakken ignored his unhappily gurgling stomach as he led the company of some 200 warriors away from the comfort of the city and out into the red horizon. He wasn’t so sure it was simple hunger anymore.

 

A loud belch forced itself from Drakken’s throat as he finished gulping down his lukewarm drink, earning him a few laughs from some of his men who were also finishing up their meals and a disgusted look from a particular female blood elf. The raven haired orc placed his utensils down on the ground next to him and leant back with a contented sigh, gently patting his full stomach with one calloused green hand.

“I really needed that.” He said aloud to no one in particular. Melaine, seated across from him and Bjarnn, snorted in a most unladylike manner. Drakken glanced over at her and raised an inquisitive brow at the petite elf. Melaine responded by wrinkling her nose and narrowing her glowing green eyes.

“What you really need is obviously to have Bjarnn check you over. The way you tore into that hog, several times might I add, was unhealthy I’m sure!” The blood elf mage said with a sharp nod at his greasy plate. The movement sent her strawberry blonde hair cascading over her chest, the soft waves set ablaze in the firelight. A chuckle reverberated in Bjarnn’s large chest but the tauren wisely chose to stay removed from his comrade’s “conversation”.

“I missed breakfast. I was _starving_!” He exclaimed, grimacing at the mere memory of his previous discomfort. “Besides,” He said turning his chocolate brown eyes to the fire mage, her beautiful porcelain face showing no signs of sympathy. “I think that’s a bit harsh, coming from a girl who makes it her business to collect shrunken heads.” Melaine flushed and sat straighter, her expression one of perfect indignation.

“I’ll have you know that collecting shrunken heads is a perfectly acceptable hobby–”

“ _For a troll_.” Drakken pointed out. His female companion let out a growl of frustration. She glared at him before letting out a frustrated huff.

“Hmph. I don’t need to take such insults from _you_.” The elf said with a sniff, looking down her nose at the orc. She rose from her place on the ground and stalked off, perking up when her eyes spotted Gavin standing watch at the edge of the large dusty campsite. Hurrying over to his side, she left her previous companions shaking their heads in fond exasperation.

“Poor Gavin. He’s so completely doomed and he hasn’t the slightest clue yet.” Bjarnn chuckled as he watched the elven woman talking out her ire at the undead rogue, his eyes knowing. Drakken would have agreed that their friend’s peace was lost to him for the remainder of the night had he not had the feeling that that was not what Bjarnn was referring to. He shot a questioning look at the druid who simply shook his head once more.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. Do not let it occupy your mind, you have more important things to concentrate on right now.” Annoyance started to rise in Drakken before the orc allowed himself to give in to the logic in that statement. _If Bjarnn isn’t concerned then it’s obviously something that I can put aside for now. I’ll look into it at another time,_ he rationalised. The two sat in silence for a short time just watching the fiery mage ranting at their surly companion, made more so by the elven woman’s presence, until she finally calmed several minutes later.

 

“Melaine is rather strange for a Sin’dorei. She’s got the vanity down pat but unlike most others I’ve met she has some rather morbid hobbies and fascinations…” Drakken commented, trading the comfortable silence for conversation once more. Bjarnn huffed in quiet laughter.

“Yes, there is no arguing that… Though she is not the only eccentric blood elf in our company at the moment.” The tauren pointed out, nodding his dark furred head at the small yet sinewy crimson eyed elf that was finishing off his solitary meal at the edge of the encampment. Drakken followed his friend’s indication and felt a frown furrow his brow as he watched Blood-Eye Blade wash down a mouthful of pork with a swig of something he strongly suspected was alcoholic. _How lonely that must be,_ though he did not give voice to the thought. Instead he gave a hum of agreement.

“Mmm. That’s not all though, there’s something very… _off_ about him.” He said, trying and failing to find the words to describe the feeling he got around the elf. The frown deepened and his eyes narrowed the way they did when the orc captain was struggling to find the answer to a particularly stubborn puzzle. While his olive skinned companion studied the Patrol member, Bjarnn in turn studied Drakken. His dark forest green eyes took in the orc’s intense focus and frustrated countenance, leaving the druid with the impression that this was more than just curiosity.

“You seem unusually interested in this Blood-Eye Blade. More so than I would expect from you.” He said, his deep voice cutting into Drakken’s concentration. The warrior sighed and pulled his eyes back towards his friend, still unable to put into words exactly the situation he had found himself in.

“I don’t usually listen to gossip and idle prattle, you _know_ that. Initially I had _no_ idea who he was or what he’d supposedly done. All I knew was that he was a Patrol member and he was going to be joining us for this mission.” He paused and heaved another sigh, chagrin entering his expression. Understanding dawned on the tauren.

“But now you know more… Things that you perhaps wish you had remained ignorant of?” He hedged. Drakken nodded, a few locks of his raven hair falling across his forehead and tickling his skin.

“Yeah… I overheard a few of the men talking last night and I was confused as to what they were complaining about. I asked them, just for clarification, and they told me about a mission one of them had been on where Blood-Eye Blade had been present… It…it wasn’t pleasant.” He explained, grimacing. “But even after hearing all that I did I still can’t consider him a monster as so many of the men obviously do.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at his friend. _He probably thinks I’m being crazy. Who in their right minds wouldn’t think of Blood-Eye Blade as such? Particularly if all those things are true…_

“And why is that?” The druid asked, his voice curious but clear of the incredulity that Drakken had been expecting. He mulled over his answer for a minute before responding.

“Because talking with him the few times I have, I swear I sometimes catch…such _grief_ in his eyes. It’s never there long but…after seeing it I just can’t bring myself to think of him as evil…” He said quietly. Bjarnn rubbed a leathery hand over his face and down his small beard.

“Hmm. I can see your dilemma. I wish I could ease your concerns but I too have heard many disturbing stories regarding this particular Patrol member; several of them firsthand accounts. Far too many to accept as simple rumour.” He shot an apologetic look at his friend as he spoke though the orc didn’t appear to notice.

“They said that even after reporting the incident nothing happened. There was no punishment, he wasn’t removed from service, or jailed. _Nothing_.” Drakken said. Bjarnn’s eyes narrowed and he nodded once, as if it confirmed a thought in his mind.

“That aligns perfectly with what I have been told. A few who dare have suggested that his actions and the non-existent repercussions point to this going much higher than just the Patrol, possibly up to Hellscream himself.” The dark furred tauren said, keeping his voice low. Despite himself Drakken felt a shiver run down his spine. Garrosh Hellscream was a beast of an orc and had a tendency towards violence that was extreme even for one of their kind. He had already shown the lengths he was willing to go to in order to achieve the ends he desired. To think that he could be involved in the actions of the blood elf who had brutally slaughtered… _Hundreds? Thousands?_ …of Horde and Alliance alike wasn’t that much of stretch.

“If that was the case-”

“You would do well not to make such accusations so casually, and within hearing distance of so many.” A soft but steely voice flowed between them, interrupting their conversation. Bjarnn tensed. Drakken was on his feet in an instant, his large double edged battle axe held tight in his hands. Narrowed brown eyes, burning amber slits in the firelight, met with unconcerned crimson. The warrior heaved a sigh, allowing the action to take the tension from his body. He shook his head, half at his own reaction and half at the intruder, spinning to sit his axe back down. Finally he turned his full attention to the blood elf standing just inside the shadows at the edge of the firelight. His eyes searched the blood red pools for any sign, any indication of what the Patrol member was thinking but they allowed him no such knowledge. He frowned.

“For you to say that… It makes me wonder if you have plans to report us to the Warchief for our words.” His tone was polite, casual, but concern flickered at its heart. The current Warchief was not merciful and if he deemed their conversation treasonous then demotion or relocation would be the best case scenario. Blood-Eye Blade moved into the warm light and stepped up close to the fire. The elf stared hard into the flames and was silent. Hints of emotion flashed through his eyes but were gone almost as soon as they dared show. When he finally spoke the words were laced with resignation.

“While I may not have the intention of reporting you… What the Warchief hears, what he _knows_ … _I_ have no control over.” As he spoke the Patrol member’s gaze did not shift from the dancing flames. Drakken shared a look of surprise with the tauren just behind him. The smaller man seemed sincere and _almost_ regretful. If the orc captain had been a betting man he would have bet that Blood-Eye Blade, _the_ Blood-Eye Blade, was unsatisfied with his employer. _It’s seems almost mundane…And if that’s the case then why doesn’t he just leave the Patrol? Why join in the first place?_ Curiosity drove him to give voice to his thoughts.

“If you’re unhappy with Hellscream then why haven’t you just quit the Patrol? Why even join?” He asked, radiating confusion. The elf being questioned spun to face him so fast that Drakken was surprised he didn’t have whiplash. Shock painted his refined features before he reigned it in and his beautiful face fell into solemnity once more.

“I could ask you the same question. If you are so dissatisfied with the current Warchief’s ruling then why do you still fight in his militia? For me…” The elf shrugged carelessly. “He made me an offer.” _An offer, eh?_

“Was it an offer you were given the option of refusing?” Drakken asked, studying the other male with a hard eye. He did not expect the response he received.

“ _Uh…ha..haha hahaha…_ ” It was cracked, quiet, and completely devoid of the humour it portrayed but it was _laughter_. Drakken’s eyes would have widened comically, and he wouldn’t have been alone in this, had the sound not been so completely dark and pained. The sound faded out after several seconds and when the moment was over all that was left was a disturbingly void smile that stretched full lips into a crude imitation of joy without touching blood coloured eyes. The scar that crossed his left eye twisted sinisterly.

“You shouldn’t ask questions where you don’t really want to hear the answer.” He said, holding the orc in his empty gaze. The expression faded and he spun suddenly on his heel, turning away from the two companions. The elf began to walk away but hesitated. He kept his back to them and when he spoke his voice was the same quiet tone as usual. “You should be more careful about what you say and in whose presence… If not you will only get yourselves in trouble.” Having spoken his piece the Patrol member sauntered off, seemingly unshaken. Drakken wanted to call out and stop the elf, bring him back and get some real answers instead of all that ambiguity, but like fog in the presence of the rising sun he faded away.

 

A few hours later when Drakken was falling into his sleeping roll he found himself with a head full of questions and far too few answers. The orcish warrior shifted, attempting to get comfortable enough to sleep, but no matter how many minutes passed or how many positions he took he was unsuccessful. Finally with a frustrated huff he rolled onto his back, one thick, muscled arm falling across his eyes. He knew that his inability to find rest wasn’t really due to any physical discomfort. He also knew that he should put aside his considerations for the morrow, but no matter how he tried to ignore them disturbing thoughts continued to whirlwind around his head.

 _Just who is Blood-Eye Blade?_ The easy answer would have been that he was a blood elf and a member of Garrosh Hellscream’s Patrol, meaning that he was also an incredible fighter. A more complete response would have added that he was also a man who was suspected of having slaughtered innumerable men from both the Alliance and the Horde. But delving further; was he simply a murderer? Or was he in actuality a victim? A pawn? Was he truly an emotionless killing machine with steel in his eyes and his spine? Or was the raw grief and agony that Drakken heard in his voice, caught hints of in his blood coloured gaze, the reality?

These were answers that Drakken needed to know. Yes he was curious but it was more than that. The lives of more than two hundred brave men and woman were held in his hand and, from what he had heard, Blood-Eye Blade posed a true threat to them. Would the Patrol member’s presence among them result in their mission’s success or the deaths of his own men? _Am I unintentionally dooming all those under my protection by seeing something in him that just isn’t there? And if I’m not simply imagining it, then am I dooming **him** by not doing anything about it…_

As he lay there staring sightlessly into the darkness, thinking of all he had heard and all he had seen, no answers came to him. Sometime later as he finally drifted off into a restless sleep he was still no closer to knowing.

 

Dawn the next morning came far too early. Men and women of the Horde stumbled out of their sleeping rolls and tents with bleary eyes and curses on their tongues. Drakken, having spent half the night staring at the canvas walls of his tent while trying very hard _not_ to think about the puzzle that was Blood-Eye Blade, was awoken by the sounds of the campsite coming to life. His brown eyes blinked open, every movement of the lids against them felt like sand scraping against the sensitive membrane. The last remnants of his dreams bled away until all that was left were flashes of silver, crimson, and guilt, leaving him unsettled. Tired and disgruntled, he forced himself up and out of his sleeping roll, yawning and stretching as he rose. He grimaced as his muscles pulled, his spine cracked, and the sand in his eyes scratched painfully. _I am going to be dead tonight_ , he thought, not looking forward to the day ahead at all. Using a small amount of water from his canteen he scrubbed his face and tried to wash the sleep, or there lack of, from his eyes, though it did nothing to ease the discomfort. With a heavy sigh the orc resigned himself to his fate. Leaving his hefty plate armour he donned his lighter chain mail over his underclothes in anticipation for the hot and dusty Durotar day ahead.

 

Not even five minutes after he had awoken Drakken pushed aside the tent flap and stepped out to face the day. Although still early the sun was already high over the horizon, shining intense and warm on the world beneath it. The warrior squinted and held an up one olive arm as the light momentarily blinded him. He blinked several times, allowing his vision to clear and his bloodshot eyes to grow accustomed to the brightness. His arm dropped back down to his side only a few moments after it had risen, revealing a familiar presence.

“ _Fuck!_ ” The curse slipped through his lips with his breath as he startled.  
To Drakken’s surprise where before had been naught but air now stood his elven comrade dressed in her usual green velvet mage robes, thin arms crossed in front of her ample chest. That he hadn’t heard her approach nor noticed her upon exiting his tent said a lot about his current state.

“That’s hardly the proper way to greet a friend.” Melaine stated, a disapproving frown biting at the skin between her brows. Drakken found his expression morphing to mirror hers.

“Well, said friend probably shouldn’t sneak up on people who’ve only just woken up then.” He grumbled, an unusual amount of snark in his tone. Insulted by the attitude that the orc was giving her Melaine prepared to give him a good telling off, but as she opened her mouth to do so she noticed his haggard countenance. She stopped. Her fel green gaze took in the bags under his eyes, his overall dishevelled appearance, and in response the furrowing of her brows changed from lines of irritation to lines of concern.

“ _You look terrible_!” Was her first response, to which Drakken’s reply was an unimpressed _look_ , the sarcastic “ _thanks_ ” felt rather than heard. The mage bit at her painted terracotta lips as the last of her irritation faded.

“Are you alright?” She asked, her melodious voice softening. Drakken shook his head wearily, the messier than usual braids that hung down over his shoulder catching on his armour. He felt no desire to talk about the cause of his ire, would have preferred to ignore it, at least for the moment. Apparently however he was to have no choice in the matter.

“Don’t you _dare_ ignore me, Drakken Bludwringer!” Melaine scolded, as if she had read his thoughts. Drakken pushed down the swell of frustration. It wasn’t her fault. He was tired, and confused, and already struggling just one day into their month long mission, and _it_ _wasn’t her fault_. He tried to keep that in the forefront of his mind as he focused his attention on the small female before him. Said female sighed, close enough that the breath whispered over his skin. Stepping in closer she reached up to place one perfectly manicured hand against his jaw. Her glowing eyes searched his brown ones, eyes that betrayed him by slipping off to the side, unable to meet her gaze for any real length of time.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, ignoring the curious glances of those passing. It was rare one of them worried her enough to break through her usual _charming_ demeanour. Sometimes it was easy to forget she was older even than Bjarnn, as unlike the down-to-earth tauren the Sin’dorei had a habit of rubbing others the wrong way with her demanding and somewhat vain, immature manner. Of course the elf could be kind and funny as well, able to fill many dreary nights with light teasing and tinkling laughter. She just hid it well most days.

Seeing her genuine concern Drakken felt guilt settle in beside the irritation. What could he possibly say to make her understand? How could he explain that he worried _for_ the infamous Blood-Eye Blade at the same time that he feared what the Patrol member’s presence amongst them meant? He still wasn’t fully aware of exactly what was going on and he had no desire to burden her, or anyone else, with his potentially unfounded concerns. _Well, not exactly **unfounded** but…  
_ Outwardly he schooled his expression, forcing an easy looking smile on his face as he gently removed her hand and stepped outside her reach.

“ _I’m fine, Mel_. You needn’t worry.” He said, trying to move them towards the breakfast line near the middle of the encampment. _Anything to get me out of having this conversation._ It helped that he was actually beginning to feel the first signs of hunger gnawing in his gut. He held no desire to repeat the experience of the day before.  
“I simply didn’t sleep well last night. Probably the heat, after all it’s such a drastic change from central Eastern Kingdoms right now.” He added, careful to keep his tone light to avoid arousing her suspicions. His efforts appeared in vain as Melaine’s powdered turquoise eyelids lowered and her mouth pursed, expression falling into a mix of doubt and simply ‘unimpressed’. The hardened warrior winced internally before trying again.

“I thought I’d have an easier time getting started after some breakfast. Why don’t you join me?” Once again he attempted to steer them in the direction of food, twisting away and jabbing a thumb over his armoured shoulder. The more he thought about it, the better an idea it seemed. _I’m sure I’ll feel better after getting some food in my stomach –_

“It’s Blood-Eye Blade, isn’t it?”

Drakken froze, one hand still gesturing towards the refectory, his face the perfect picture of just _shock_. His brows disappearing into his hairline, his jaw on the ground, and his warm brown eyes wide…  
Stuck in his unresponsive body his mind raced. _How_ could she have possibly known that? The stunned warrior was speechless, her abrupt words spoken so plainly brought him up short. A handful of the men nearby had stopped to listen when they heard the ill-famed Patrol member’s name. Many had scampered in the opposite direction, either feeling fear hurrying their pace or simply knowing better than to get involved. Either way, Drakken was suddenly all too conscious that there were a few too many eyes turned upon them. Throughout his silence Melaine stood there waiting, uncaring of their audience. The fire mage’s eyes held kindness in them as she regarded her friend, however it was paired with a certain severity. There was no way the orc captain would be wriggling out of this any time soon. She watched intently as Drakken finally moved, closing his mouth and swallowing audibly.

“What makes you think that?” Drakken asked her, going for nonchalant and aware he was likely failing. He never had been a very good actor. Though he was curious to know the answer, he hoped his comrade would respect his wishes. Or at least have better sense than to attempt to continue that particular discussion in such a public setting. He was mistaken on both accounts.

“While talking to Gavin last night, we both noticed him approach you and Bjarnn. It didn’t look to be a very friendly conversation… We had planned to ask you about it then, but the two of you retired not long after.” The elven woman replied with a slight shrug. Drakken would have preferred to have this little _‘chat’_ later, within the privacy of their group, or even never. It was obvious however that Melaine held no such concerns. _She’s not going to let me go with this,_ he thought unhappily, _so let’s at least clear the room a little…_

The muscular, axe-wielding warrior set his jaw, lowering his brow into a glare which he directed at their unwanted audience. His lip twisted, pulling at the small scar over the left side, and a threatening snarl ripped from his throat. Those who had hoped to stick around for the show quickly found themselves remembering pressing tasks that required their attention, _right that second_ , and hurried off.  
Pride welled up in Drakken’s breast as he watched them scatter. He wasn’t Captain for nothing.

As the onlookers fled the scene at a rapid pace, the orc turned to his friend with a hefty sigh.

“You honestly couldn’t have waited to bring this up?” He asked, exasperation weighing down his words. Melaine shook her head, long coppery hair falling over narrow shoulders, her expression disapproving.

“I know you, Drake. Very well. I know you worry far too much, and I know that you take it upon yourself to fix everyone’s problems for them.” Drakken turned his glare on her. _She makes that sound like bad thing._

He stayed silent, deciding to ignore the direction the conversation was taking. For a second he’d honestly believed that the magic-user had been trying to bring up the elekk in the campsite; why Blood-Eye Blade specifically had been assigned to their mission. Apparently she had decided to go another route.  
A soft huff fell from the blood elf’s lips as Drakken remained quiet, bordering on frustration.

“You can’t just ignore me and hope I’ll go away, Drakken.” She pointed out. A definite frown pulled at her long, pale brows. Her words, true as they might be, didn’t stop him from trying. The silence stretched out between them until Melaine gave way a minute later. With a frustrated sigh the tension in her small body left her.

“Look, Drakken. I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing.” She said, her voice kind despite how hard she had appeared mere moments ago. “ _Honey_ , you care about people, you want to help them. That’s one of your better qualities. But flipping the coin over, sometimes you take it too far and you worry yourself into a state.” The ‘like now’ was implied.

“Right now, I’m guessing you’re concerned about the rumours surrounding Blood-Eye Blade. Am I correct?”

Drakken’s brow furrowed. _How on Azeroth…_ Each of his friends was aware that he had no time for rumours and tall tales. _So how did she know?  
_ Once again the orc found himself wondering if the Sin’dorei didn’t have the ability to look into others’ minds for, as if reading his, a small grin worked its way onto her porcelain features.

“I saw you talking with Kilreign and his band of not-so-merry men the other night in Orgrimmar. I’d overheard them _‘conversing’_ about Blood-Eye Blade’s presence earlier that same eve. It wasn’t really that much of a jump to guess you’d been pulled into their little…‘ _discussion_ ’.” Melaine explained, a hint of mirth dancing in her glowing green eyes as she surmised with one word how he had felt about being dragged into that situation.

“Ah,” was all that Drakken could think to say in response. His companion let out a few giggles at his expense.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking.” She started to say, her voice steady but an indulgent smile hovering on her coloured lips, unable to hear Drakken internally respond with a doubtful, ‘ _I’m not sure you do_ ’.

“The truth is that nobody can possibly know the outcome of Blood-Eye Blade’s presence here. It’s possible that some of the speculation I’ve been hearing is true and he’s going to slaughter all of us in our bedrolls. Or perhaps he’s here, as the Warchief said, to simply keep an eye on things and make sure everything goes according to plan. But the way I see it, unless you’ve suddenly got it into your head to kill Blood-Eye, which I can see from your expression that you haven’t, then there’s nothing that you can do except to prepare yourself for the worst and hope for the best.” Melaine pinned him with a meaningful look. “No good will come from worrying about it now.”  
Drakken sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“You’re right, of course.” He agreed, only a little grudgingly. _There’ll be no living with her after this_. “I guess all I can do is…wait and see.” A grimace pulled at his lips. He knew she spoke the truth, knew she meant well. Still he couldn’t put the thoughts out of his mind, not entirely. _How can I when the lives of everyone here is depending on the answer?_ He wondered.He did however do his best to bury them a little, so that he would not cause his friends to worry. The mage eyed him, a knowing expression in her fel green pools. Before she could look into his mind and call him on it, a loud gurgle from the orc’s stomach broke through any remaining tension. Melaine froze, staring at him in wide eyed shock as though she couldn’t believe his body had dared to make such vulgar sounds at her. Drakken felt his face heating under her judging gaze, though at the same time he was glad of the distraction. Suddenly his friend’s expression cracked, leaving the woman in a fit of giggles. Huffing, Drakken turned on his heel and stalked off to finally get some breakfast. He didn’t get far before his lightly pointed ears caught the quiet pounding of slippered footsteps and he felt a weight pulling at his arm. Melaine said nothing as she entwined her arm with his much thicker one and they made their way to the large area where breakfast was still being doled out, but one quick glance and the orc could see a pleased smile still curling her terracotta lips.

 

After receiving their modest breakfast rations; an apple and a few salted oat cakes, Drakken and Melaine sat themselves down on the dusty red ground a little ways from where the rest of the troops were breaking their fast. They had barely gotten comfortable when the two found themselves beset by their curious comrades. Sauntering over, the undead rogue and troll shaman sat down opposite their friends. Kar’zhel greeted them with a toothy grin before focusing on his own breakfast. Gavin however pinned them with his intense amber gaze and stared. Waiting... just waiting. Drakken sighed internally, staring forlornly at the food in his large green fists. _I thought I would at least be able to eat in peace after already being accosted by Melaine. Seems I was wrong… again. Apparently the theme for today._

“Can I help you gentlemen?” He asked in between bites, as if he didn’t already know _exactly_ what they were there for. Gavin took in the forms of the warrior and the mage beside him and rolled his yellow eyes inasmuch as a forsaken could.

“ _Pff_. Don’t play dumb Drake. It suits you but I know you better than that.” Drakken ignored the insult, knowing better than to take anything the surly rogue said to heart. Just as well since the scraggly haired undead didn’t pause to soften his harsh words, continuing on straight to the point. “I want to hear what happened last night. What did he want?” _And there we go…_ The ‘he’ they were talking about didn’t need to be specified; the orcish warrior knew precisely to whom his friend was referring. A sigh slipped passed his lips.

“He happened to overhear me and Bjarnn in the middle of rather delicate discussion. At the time he approached us we had been…” Drakken hesitated before lowering his voice, “Speaking unwell of our current Warchief.” Both greyish brows rose at that, incredulity apparent in glowing eyes with, if Drakken wasn’t mistaken, a hint of approval.

“That’s pretty ballsy.” Gavin pointed out, unable to help feeling a begrudging respect. A small worried frown started to crease his forehead before it was wiped away by the undead man’s usual put-on expression, his thin lips pulling down at the corners. “What did he have to say about that? Is he going to tattle to Hellscream? Did he threaten you?” Kar’zhel startled at that, his own food forgotten as he stared with wide orange eyes.

“Wha?! Someone’s threatenin’ da Captain?!” He exclaimed, disbelief in his voice. Drakken shook his head _._ It would figure that that was when the shaman would tune in _._ Before he was given a chance to respond Melaine chimed in.

“Blood-Eye Blade.” The elven woman supplied with a lopsided shrug. Kar’zhel’s jaw fell open and everyone could see the alarm in every tense muscle.

“No… Well yes, technically it was Blood-Eye Blade but that’s not what… He wasn’t threatening us.” Drakken sighed, struggling to dissolve the misunderstanding before things got out of hand. Gavin raised one brow at the olive skinned orc, scepticism narrowing his yellow gaze.

“You honestly expect me to believe that Hellscream’s attack dog overheard you slagging his master and didn’t, has no plans to, do anything about it?” The warrior took a moment to centre his thoughts. He could understand where his companions were coming from, truly he could. Having heard the rumours surrounding the aloof Patrol member he knew their distrust wasn’t misplaced. But he had seen hints that suggested differently… hadn’t he?

“I know how it sounds,” brown eyes hardened when the rogue opened his mouth as if to argue, “No, trust me, I do. But he really didn’t.” Drakken didn’t see how informing his comrades of his own fears, fears that kept him up at night and invaded his dreams, about the crimson eyed elf would be wise at this point. Confusion joined the doubt in the expressions of the group surrounding him.

“Then what did he want?” This time it was Melaine who piped up. Her fel green gaze was curious but there was an intensity there in the way that she looked at the orc, as if staring into his soul. If Drakken was honest, after their confrontation earlier he couldn’t say for sure that she wasn’t.

“I think… I think he was trying to warn us.” A small frown formed, shadowing his face. “He said that we shouldn’t be having such a dangerous conversation in such a public setting.”

“Yeaaahhh… Sorry but sounds a bit like a threat to me.” Gavin said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. Drakken suppressed a frustrated, uncaptain-like whine.

“Ugh, I’m saying it wrong. It wasn’t like that.” Light, how could he even begin to explain it? How could he make them understand, show them the conflicting emotions that he had spied dancing in eyes of flame? There was no evidence that he could present to sway his friends’ minds. Though that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try.

“He was trying to help… I think…” The responding looks were not encouraging. “He claimed he had no intention of reporting it to the Warchief.” Melaine bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth.

“But… Honey, can we actually trust him to keep to his word?” Her eyes were wide with concern, softening her porcelain face. “We just don’t want to see you get into trouble.” Drakken met her worried gaze and held it.

“I think we can. With this at least. You didn’t see him last night, he seemed…resigned? I don’t know… But Bjarnn and I discussed it after and we both agreed; he was _definitely_ sincere.” Gavin shook his head.

“Even so. I’d keep an eye on that one. Man like that… I wouldn’t be so sure.” _I suppose I should be grateful that is all he has to say on the subject._ Drakken sighed but couldn’t muster the strength to argue further at that time. Words tingled awkwardly on the tip of his tongue. Worries, placations, contemplation, words of condemnation and words of conviction mingled there but he swallowed them, felt their weight fall into his stomach and churn uncomfortably. The orc knew however that there was no use continuing their discussion then. They were seated on the far edge of encampments communal dining area, more than half their troops less than a stone’s throw away. And his friends were firmly set in their opinions, struggling with preconceptions and shadows. They had not seen what he had, the vulnerability lurking under that beautiful stoic exterior. He was sure it was real. _It has to be… because I don’t want to think about what will happen if it’s not…_

Unwilling to subject himself to further scrutiny and feeling time slipping away from them, Drakken rose wiping crumbs onto the ground, and left to begin packing away their tents and supplies. They had another long day of travel ahead of them, one of just many more.

 

The next few days out of Durotar and through the Barrens were strenuous physically, mentally, and emotionally. While there were many men who were content to ignore the Patrol member moving fluidly through their marching ranks, there were just as many who had to kick up a fuss over it. There were those who, like Kilreign, would be fearful and quiet. Despite the silly picture they painted – a bunch of much larger orcs, taurens, and trolls, cowering away from the mere presence of the unusually short statured blood elf, – they were not so annoying as the rowdier men. These men would make loud, unpleasant comments about Blood-Eye Blade as he moved into hearing range, would snigger rudely at some of things others whispered, and generally made nuisances of themselves. The Captain was genuinely surprised that those who had spoken out were still alive to crawl out of their tents every morning. Knowing that emotions were running high and patiences thin, Drakken made the decision to allow the men a half day of freedom in the next town, which was to be the seaside town of Ratchet. He hoped that it would be a soothing balm on the company’s simmering tempers. Light only knew they needed it.

 

Drakken called his troops to a halt on top of the hill that sloped down towards the Goblin run town known as Ratchet. He gazed down at the somewhat ramshackle port and felt a smile tug on his lips as he watched people scurry around. There were strong men lugging crates to and from the ship docked at the end of the pier, people of all races of the Horde haggling with the auctioneers and the merchants, and raucous laughter floating up from the tavern despite the midday sun still hanging high overhead. The olive skinned orc breathed deeply of the salty breeze and allowed the grin to win the battle for his face. _Hopefully this is just what the healer ordered…_

He put back on his ‘Captain face’ and turned to face the warriors waiting behind him. As his gaze swept over their flagging forms the men pulled themselves up and to attention. Drakken held back from clicking his tongue at their weary faces. It wasn’t hard to see that a number of the men simply weren’t cut out for the harsh pace, making him wonder if those individuals would even make it to Tanaris. _With any luck having an afternoon to relax and horse around will replenish them. More so, I hope it will calm those who are having trouble accepting Blood-Eye Blade’s presence amongst us._

“We will be stopping here for the eve.” Murmurs of surprise flitted through the ranks. “Yes, despite the yet early hours. You will be free to spend the rest of the day as you wish and will be able to take advantage of Ratchet’s local entertainments if you so desire.” Drakken paused and aimed a stern stare at the men, all of who had smiles pulling across their lips. “But be warned. This time here is a privilege and those seen behaving in an inappropriate manner will be confined to their tents for the rest of stay. Before you rush off I need a few volunteers to replenish our perishable supplies at the local merchants while everyone else sets up the camp. After everything is in order and inspections complete you will be allowed to leave. So I’d get to it if I were you.”

The hilltop exploded in a flurry of activity. A small group were chosen and tasked with procuring fresh supplies, while the rest of the warriors rushed to roll out their sleeping rolls, brush down any mounts, and set up the communal areas of the camp. Drakken and his lieutenants, as well as some of the older more experienced warriors, took to their tasks at a more sedate pace. Within the hour the hill had been transformed and all troops were standing to attention in front of their freshly pitched tents. After Drakken, Bjarnn, and Gavin had made the rounds the orc Captain dismissed the men with a careless wave. The camp was nearly completely empty in two minutes.  
The dark haired warrior shook his head in bewilderment. _Well they’re certainly looking a bit more chipper now._ A quick glance at those trailing behind told him that even the aloof Patrol member had hurried off. Depositing his gear in his tent and counting out a fair handful of coin, Drakken checked in with the guards he had left on duty and followed the menagerie of men into town.

 

The portside town was bursting at the seams and practically trembling with life as two hundred strong, stir crazy militiamen bustled through it. Despite the generous size of the tavern it was still nowhere near large enough for their kind of numbers, made all the more obvious by the short line forming in the doorway. Some soldiers thought better of that idea and spent their afternoon on other frivolous activities such as shopping, fishing, swimming, and trying to hit up the locals for a night of fun.

Relaxing, however, this was not for Drakken and his lieutenants. An afternoon of freedom for their troops meant several hours of careful watching and stern reprimands for the superiors. The Captain observed at least a handful of men and women who had to push the limits of Ratchet’s hospitality and his fraying patience. True to his word, those troublemakers quickly found themselves escorted to the campsite and forced into whatever chores still remained.

 

Night fell quickly enough, soothing Drakken with the knowledge that the day of ‘rest’ would soon be over. The sun had dipped below the distant mountains some time ago and already more than half the men had returned to camp, where they would be kept under Bjarnn’s knowing eye. Though whether they returned of their volition was… not important.  
The orcish warrior wandered through Ratchet’s emptying streets; one last round to be sure there were no stragglers looking to harass the residents as they made their way home. Warm brown eyes searched every alleyway, every shadow, but saw nothing. Reassured that all was as it should be, and the remaining men were all ensconced in their tankards up in the tavern, he slowly made his own way to the inn to join them.

The Broken Keel Tavern was warm as he stepped through the open door. Warm and _loud,_ and despite the growing lateness still filled with many bodies… of varying levels of inebriation.  
He spied Gavin and Melaine muttering quietly at a small dark table, shaded by one of the heavy support beams. Despite the drinks in front of them he knew they had one eye open, ready to step in should any of their own become too unruly. The worn but clean bar called to him enticingly and Drakken gave little resistance, walking over and ordering a simple weak ale despite the temptation of the fine double rum he could see on the shelf. _I need to keep my wits about me. The men have been rowdier than usual._

As he turned to make his way to his companions, drink held steady in one large green fist, he almost started as he passed by a familiar head of light blonde hair. Blood-Eye Blade sat at the bar, alone as usual, with at least three feet of purposely empty space on his either side. The elf had a full bottle of the afore mentioned double rum, Stranglethorn’s best by the look of it, which he appeared to be really sinking his teeth into…or appeared to be really sinking into him. It seemed that whenever Drakken caught sight of him outside their daily march the man was drinking one thing or another. _Though I’ve never seen him drink quite so much in one sitting_ , he thought as the Patrol member upended his large bottle and drunk down a good portion of the strong alcohol. He briefly contemplated approaching the other man since he was rarely seen to be so blatantly casual but shook himself of such thoughts. _I don’t think he’d appreciate someone butting into his business…and anything that can make a person drink like that is definitely their own business.  
_ Drakken returned to his original plan of seeking out the company of his lieutenants and pushed his way through the drunken rabble to the small table with his suddenly less appealing ale.

 

“You should…should _totally_ do it…”

“Nahway man! Should be you!”

“I’ll… _hic_ …I’ll do it! I’mma gonna do it!”

“I’ll do it ya fuckin’ pansies! Idiots are so drunk you’d prolly clock yaselves afore ya even got dere…”

“Like you’re any be- _urgh_ … better!”

The Patrol member stared into his drink, lips twisted in a grimace as he tried valiantly to ignore the drunken posturing nearby. It was so typical and yet he was having a harder time than usual resisting the urge to go back there and teach them a lesson with the pointy end of his weapon. _The pointy…? What ridiculousness. This rum must be a stronger blend…Maybe from that bad harvest several years back? They did supplement the barrels with a little of whatever they could find to make up for the lack…  
_ The grimace pulled into a snarl at the thought but wasn’t enough to slow his drinking.

A commotion behind him interrupted his train of thought. An irritated sigh whispered through full lips and he twisted round on his rickety stool against his better judgement. The group of men he had tuned out before had escalated from arguing incoherently amongst themselves to shoving each other, their voices growing louder still. Crimson eyes rolled and Blood-Eye Blade scoffed. _Yes boys, obviously the best way to continue is to start an all-out brawl while your superiors are sitting twenty feet away._ Although he had kept his sarcasm to himself one of the men caught his stare and instead of flinching back sneered.

“What are you looking at, _Freak_?” The brawny orc mocked, his voice as irritating as his countenance led Blood-Eye Blade to believe. His comment, not directed at them, attracted the attention of his mates, who halted their activities to watch the exchange. Surprise flitted across the Patrol member’s features at the man’s audacity before contempt filled his gaze and one pale brow rose imperiously.

“Not very much apparently. Though I suspected as much from your obnoxious appearance. “ _Freak_ ”? You honestly couldn’t do better than that?” Internally he berated himself for deigning to respond, for rising to their bait. Though as he watched the warrior flounder in anger he almost thought it worth the slip. The elf was willing to leave the confrontation at that and return to his previous engagement with his more than half empty bottle of double rum but fate was a fickle woman, one he knew from experience held him in little regard.

“Fucking pile o’… _blurgh_ … boar dung!” The second orc, an equally large and sickly green hunter, yelled. _Oh great, now we’ve got a mini-mob… and a drunk one at that…_ “You think you can do whatever you like just ‘cause you’re sucking up to the Warchief.”

“More like _sucking off_.” An effeminate elven paladin scoffed, making a crude gesture with his hand to drive the point home. The four offenders snickered at the insinuation, the others adding vulgar comments of their own and making the group laugh even harder. Blood red eyes narrowed, becoming sinister slits of fire that promised indescribable pain.

“ _Shut up._ ” The Patrol member growled warningly. Not exactly his most articulate response… The men just laughed it off.

“Why? You gonna run back to your master with your little tail between your legs and tattle?” At any other time the Patrol member would have restrained himself, would have buried his anger deep down inside and left it to fester unseen. The comments were childish at best, depraved at worst and certainly not worth the trouble he would surely be in if the situation escalated beyond words… But he had drunk far more than usual and was really beginning to feel the affects of the alcohol in his veins, his thoughts growing fuzzy and red hazed. He made one last attempt to turn away but was stopped when the most lucid member of the group, a teal skinned troll who was still well into his cups, dared to grab at his arm.

“Ya don’t tink we be lettin’ ya go dat easily do ya?” He sneered, his rank breath made worse by the thick scent of liquor. “Ya nothin’ more den a g…glorified murderer. Do ya wanna guess what we do ta murderers back where I come from?” His three fingered grip tightened and the elf’s muscles twitched.

“ _Don’t…_ ” Blood-Eye Blade’s face twisted into an expression of rage, “ _TOUCH ME_!” With an angry yell he grabbed the offending appendage and, in a surprising display of strength, threw the troll over his shoulder.

The larger man crashed into the floorboards, his yelp of surprise ending in a pitiful strangled squeak as the fuming blood elf followed, slamming onto his narrow chest and shoving his forearm against his throat. The mage pulled at the leanly muscled limb cutting off his air supply but stopped struggling when a near silent hiss slithered into his ears.

“ _You have no idea what you’re messing with, no right to call down judgement upon **me**_.” The words, laced with madness, drove a shiver down his long spine. Baiting and threatening the lithe elf no longer seemed like the good idea it had ten minutes ago… Faced with the demon fire blazing in Blood-Eye Blade’s livid gaze the troll finally understood the fearful rumours that surrounded the Patrol member. An understanding that he was sure was about to cost him dearly…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sorry for any mistakes. I don't actually have a beta reader or anyone to really ask to read over my work for me. So right now it's just me checking it over, and everyone knows that one is often blind to the issues plaguing their own writing.


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